


To be Hole

by Always_Bottom_Derek



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom Derek Hale, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, M/M, Master/Pet, Master/Slave, Piercings, Shaving, Spells & Enchantments, Tattoos, mind broken, other characters to be added - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 19:50:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16002098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Always_Bottom_Derek/pseuds/Always_Bottom_Derek
Summary: There are no more bars, he’s not chained, hardly supervised anymore.Derek is warmed by this.No longer humiliated, instead, he’s happy he’s finally learned to be good.





	To be Hole

The light shifts.

Derek lifts his head.

His eyes slit, searching for how far his sun patch has strayed. Any prolonged sensation of cool reminds him too much of the dungeons and already the shadow feels heavy against his skin.

He drags himself over his cushions chasing the heat, so used to crawling he doesn’t even bother lifting his belly.

After two years of nothing but harshness, the covers beneath him, the slide of slick against slick - silk against silk, still startle his naked skin.

His hands stretch out in front of him as he pulls himself along. They were bound for so long he remains amazed every time he moves them.

Even if they’re unshackled now, however, the intricate tattoos that encircle his wrists, biceps, ankles, and thighs are constant reminders of who he’s bound to.

This would vex him if he thought about it.

Luckily, he stopped thinking months ago. The only thing his broken mind holds now is one word… _OBEY_ … There’s no room in its fractured spaces for anything else.

And obeying is what he’s doing.

It’s pleasant, if boring. But after what he’s endured, boring is bliss. And at present, all he has to do to comply is laze around on his pet bed looking “pretty.”

Curling up in his new spot of sun, he stares blankly out the open doors of his master’s chambers, through the stone slats of the rails on the balcony, outside.

He’s alone. His keepers aren’t worried he’ll hurl himself over the ledge anymore. He’s learned too well he’s not easily killed and just how long it takes unattended shattered bones to mend. 

There are no more bars, he’s not chained, hardly supervised. Derek is warmed by this. No longer humiliated, instead, he’s happy he’s finally learned to be good.

He pulls a pillow up under his chin. It’s scruffy, though Ennis’s straight razor scraped over it in his morning's grooming. His beard and the other hair on his head is the only place it's allowed to grow.

He doesn’t dwell on this though either, no more than a tree contemplates its winter-bare branches. Rather, he drifts, enjoying the way the sun strokes his darkening, unblemished skin. Thankful for his inherited healing.

Marks lead to memories and he needs to stay free of these.

Suddenly, a too familiar sound catches his sharp ears. Derek’s eyes flicker to the bit of ground below, just visible from his pillowed aerie, where a guard beats one of the countless scurrying slaves tasked with keeping his master’s ever-expanding empire.

The slave doesn’t scream under the strikes but even from this distance, Derek hears the man grunt. His ears ring with the cadence of the blows.

Silently, he rolls over, setting his broad back against the sun.

A light breeze lifts the gauzy draperies framing the open doors and the edge of one lifts and falls, tickling over his shoulders. His mind skirts dangerously close to his past when the sheer grazes his flesh like the fingers of his ghosts.

Derek shivers and scoots away, even if it means losing the warmth.

Ears still buzzing, he slips his head under his pillow. Usually, he feels the same way about the dark as he does the cold.

But right now this cool blackness seems safer.

-X-

Times passes.

Derek sleeps under the shield of his pillow until a booted foot taps the sole of his bare one.

He opens his eyes.

An invisible fist immediately grips his guts until he remembers he doesn’t need to be vigilant anymore

Just obedient.

Recognizing Ennis by his boots, Derek uncurls his muscular body with a feline stretch. Like a big cat too, he slips gracefully over and presses against Ennis’s legs.

Rising up on calloused knees, he slides his gleaming torso up his keeper: from shin, to thigh, to crotch. Above him, Ennis chuckles.

Derek is glad now he’s tamed that he elicits such good humor.

Strong fingers thread through his hair.

Ennis says nothing just opens the slit in his trousers and pulls out his cock. There’s no need to urge, Derek knows exactly what’s expected and was already nuzzling into his bulge in anticipation.

There’s a pleased hum overhead as he sets to work fulfilling his purpose.

Obeying.

Bringing his master’s confidantes pleasure.

Kissing, licking, swallowing it down to its root, Derek worships his keeper’s cock as though it’s his entire world.

And in this moment it is.

Thighs spread, hands clasped deferentially behind his back until they’re called for, he uses his mouth to make the best of every moment.

Ennis enjoys this attention in relative silence. Gasps, grunts and the occasional groan are the only exclamations he makes. There’s no need anymore for litanies of expletives and slurs.

_Whore, bitch, slut, cumpdump, dog, trash, shit…_

They both know Derek has been all of these but has now surpassed them to become what he was meant to be: a void, existing as nothing until something fills him.

Under Derek’s skilled mouth Ennis comes quickly. He pulls his dick out when he finishes as there’s no move made by the lips around him to slip off. They both know Derek will warm a cock for hours. 

After he tucks himself away, Ennis pulls a slender lead from a pocket.

Derek remains as he is, head down, kneeling as he’s been taught, in the perfect posture of submission. His keeper attaches his leash to the heavy silver ring that pierces and weights his cockhead.

He bites his lips but stays silent when Ennis gives it a tug to ensure the tether is secure, although it’s really more for show these days.

It’s harder not to respond when Ennis hooks his fingers through the rings run through his nipples. Pulls and twists just to tease nubs thick and elongated from their training. And so sensitive now.

But the only pleasure he's free to chase is that of those using him. So when his dick twitches under this touch, Derek suffers a flash of guilt for never yet being able to master this final unruly bit of himself.

This pang lasts no longer than the ‘twitch,’  however, quickly snuffed out and replaced by his gratitude for his master.

For the mercy bestowed on him after so much punishment.

For the spell that now keeps his long, broad cock from ever hardening fully.

Finally Ennis relents. His hands move and Derek shivers, giddy, when a fat thumb rubs over his soft bitten bottom lip and his keeper, low and rough, tells him what a good “hole” he’s become.

His brow furrows, however, when Ennis gives his stubbled cheek a brisk tap and advises him, today, it’d be best for him to remember his training.

As if those sessions weren’t seared into whatever tiny scrap of soul he has left.

Thankfully, before his reaction draws notice and trouble stirs, Ennis is moving. Derek automatically follows after, relieved he has a new task.

 _Sleep, Wake, Eat, Piss, Shit, Suck, Swallow,_ _Get Fucked,_ _Sit, Wait, Follow_ … This is the entire scope of his world.

It’s all he needs to know and comforting in its abbreviation. Much more complex and he’d get lost again.

And being brought back into the fold after wandering is always so painful.

Head down, focused on keeping up with Ennis’s long stride, Derek is oblivious to the looks he garners crawling down the bustling hallways.

He registers tension in the air but purposely ignores it. Likewise, closes his ears to the whispers that buzz around him.

The only thing he pays attention to is any hint Ennis may stop and call him to sit or suck or spread.

But this doesn’t appear to be part of their path today and they move with relative quickness over cobbled stone.

By now, Derek has memorized every rock in the floor of the corridors he’s permitted to travel.

The moment he realizes they’re headed to the throne room, his spell-altered ass starts leaking in anticipation of fulfilling its purpose.

This, another of his master’s tender mercies.


End file.
